Testing Your Limits
by Desolate Heaven
Summary: Convinced that it will improve relations, the bosses cram twenty-three nations into three cars. For a week of nothing but misery.
1. Pile In

**Title: **Testing Your Limits  
**Summary**: Convinced that it will improve relations, the bosses cram twenty-four nations into three cars with each other. For more than a week of nothing but misery.  
**Rating:** T (Rating subject to change)  
**Warnings:** Language, Sexual Situations, Violence, Extreme and Purposeful OOCness, (More warnings may arise on a case-by-case basis)

**Pairings (Implied or Otherwise)(Also, these are in no particular order): **RussiaxAmerica, KoreaxChina, SwedenxFinland, HungaryxPrussia, HungaryxAustria, PrussiaxCanada, GermanyxItaly, FrancexEngland, TurkeyxGreece, GreecexJapan, TurkeyxGreecexJapan, PolandxLithuania, SpainxS. Italy, etc...

**A/N (Please read): **Hello, lovely people, this is the first work that I will be posting for Hetalia. This is also the first time I've written something that's, for the most part, directed more towards humor. Also, conversations with my friend will probably result in more stuff like this, because she is insane.

Okay, so right now I am extremely uncomfortable with my style, I'm not gonna lie. Even though this story is crack, I'd really like some feedback so that I can improve for the more serious works that I have planned.

Anyway, please enjoy!

* * *

A mutual sense of betrayal settled over them, each nation shifting in some nervous fashion or away from each other as they took in the sight of the three sleek black SUVs parked by the curb.

"I thought we were flying to the summit in California." Someone mumbled, looking back to their boss for an explanation that could properly excuse this. For most of the countries present they'd already spent an extensive amount of time on despairingly boring planes rides to reach America's house and the thought of being shoved into a car wasn't appealing.

Finland scratched his head, frowning slightly and leaning into Sweden.

"There's a car apiece, right? We're just going to the hotel... right?"

"Nope!" Came a voice from the cluster of politicians behind their nations. The air thickened and it was obvious from the way several nations that were friendlier towards each other began to congregate that they were already calling seat-mates. They had no idea what was going on, but hell or high water they were not sitting next to people they could hardly stand normally. Disregarding the unease settling over the amassed nations of the world, their bosses continued. "We thought it would be a nice idea for all of you to drive to California for the summit."

England stepped forward, his arms already crossed and his thick eyebrows nearly joining as they furrowed in anger.

"And you're saying 'All of you' as in none of _you_ are coming? We're in Virginia! You want us to _drive_ to--"

A pair of arms flew up from the accumulate of middle-aged, graying officeholders to display a relatively nondescript binder.

"We have seating charts!" For emphasis, their bosses nodded enthusiastically. It looked as if their own genius had astounded them.

"Seating charts. Because that makes fucking everything better." America snorted, swiping the binder as it was passed over to the nations, who, by now, had fully formed hopeful and tolerable groups. All eyes turned to the bespectacled blond, who arched a brow at their expressions. "Don't give me that look. Just because this is my house doesn't mean I was in on it."

They all looked away. America flipped the binder open and began examining those brilliant charts that their bosses were so excited about. He looked at the group of nations in front of him, over to their bosses, to the black cars, back to the binder and then to the nations again. His expression soured instantly.

"Let me see that." Germany lunged forward and swiped the charts and repeated America's slow descent into dismay as he read them, except with an added side of migraine. "There have to be more cars than just three..."

"No, just three. And you all have to stick to the seating arrangements." Someone said... in sing-song, dear God. Germany looked close to tears. He handed the chart over to China who'd held his hands out in polite demand. China retched and France snatched the binder, an offended look passing over him.

And thus the seating chart made it's journey through the hands of all twenty-four nations present, leaving each and every one of them with a look that was generally only administered by malnourished orphans begging for scraps. America swiped the binder back just as Russia seemed to find where his seat would be located (the result of the large nation's discovery was for his skin to change from a mildly attractive sun-deprived pale to a shade of green not found in nature) and closed it, unhesitatingly brandishing it at all the suits behind him.

"Whatever you think that this will accomplish, I think it's dumb." America stated, about ready to whip the binder into the crowd. "Even _Europe_ would agree with me on this load of bullshit."

Begrudging affirmatives rose up from the group standing behind the superpower.

"In the end, we believe this will be extremely beneficial." It would've been official sounding if that irritating sing-song had left the voice of the speaker.

"_Beneficial_ my arse!" England spat. "I am not sitting next to that Frog!!"

"I like the seating arrangements." Lithuania offered. Everyone looked at him. Several, like Finland and Poland seemed to agree. Others looked a little less enthusiastic about the whole issue.

Switzerland crossed his arms.

"You're sitting with Poland and Canada. I'm sitting between Russia and Belarus. Your right to an opinion on this whole issue has been revoked." Lithuania just laughed nervously. Switzerland continued, his tone becoming increasingly hostile-- which wasn't a significant change, but it was worth noting. "I'm sitting in the trunk if I have to-- Did they just leave? THEY JUST LEFT US STANDING HERE!?"

All the other nations parted from around Switzerland.

Poland put his hands on his hips, green eyes cataloging his would-be traveling companions.

"So... what d'ya think'd happen if we, like, just found another way to California? That didn't involve, you know, dealing with each other and stuff?"

"We can't afford the tax." Somebody mumbled. A mutual sigh.

"Shall we all get in the cars?" Japan asked, already standing with his seat-mates. Turkey and Greece looked like they were just waiting for the first chance to instigate something.

The SUV that was third in the line-up was filled painlessly. Sweden sat himself in the driver's seat and Finland in the passenger side. Poland and Lithuania sandwiched Canada, who looked more comfortable than he usually did, in the back. The trunks of the cars were open, leaving people able to see into them and climb over the backseat to sit in them. Spain and Southern Italy made themselves comfy on the suitcases that everyone else had tossed with little mind for order in the back. Southern Italy had yet to amass enough to complain about, but he was obviously compiling a mental list.

The middle SUV was loaded with a bit more difficulty. Not only were there more passengers but they were more passengers that were less likely to shut their mouths and deal with each other for the trip. Austria was the one that took the driver's seat, China quickly leapt into the passenger seat next to the Germanic nation to avoid South Korea. Korea took the trunk with Germany and Northern Italy when he found that he'd be unable to sit anywhere near the other Asian nation. Japan quickly found himself sandwiched between the Mediterraneans.

Overall, everything seemed well as far as getting everyone situated. Then the first car in the row happened. England, after giving France a swift knock in the jaw, took the driver's seat and force the Frenchman to sit next to him instead. Switzerland remained true to his word and pulled himself over the backseat and into the trunk after all the other passengers had put their luggage there. Hungary and Prussia exchanged looks of utter disdain and did the same, elbowing each other along the way. Switzerland didn't seem to mind as long as the two of them remained the farthest they could from him. Belarus wordlessly sat in the back, at the window on the left.

America and Russia stood staring at the last two seats in the car as chatter began to rise slowly from all the vehicles.

The larger nation was sure that the American would start bartering for the window seat.

"Gimme twenty bucks and I'll sit between you and your sister. I'll kick her for free." America said suddenly, quietly so the female nation already in the car wouldn't hear. Russia looked at his frenemy. He arched a brow and tried to pretend that the thought of sitting with Belarus hadn't sent him into a shivering fit. America had tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, waiting for a response.

Russia grabbed the smaller nation by the shoulder, roughly.

"You will sit between us regardless, mercenary." Russia smiled, pouring venom into it for added effect and throwing the blond bodily into the back next to his sister. Russia climbed in after him before he could right himself and slammed the door shut. The result of this was awkward at best, America's face crammed into Belarus's chest (the nation's eyes had bugged to an astounding degree and she had instantly reached into a pocket in her dress, probably for a knife) and Russia pressed against him from behind.

Thankfully, before there were any casualties or wars declared, the problem was solved with a great deal of slapping, swearing and a few well-aimed kicks on America's part.

"What the bloody fuck is going on back there!?" England yelled, craning his neck to see into the rear view mirror. France was still rubbing at the side of his face, his cheek already showing vague signs of bruising.

"Nothing!" That might've been America, but it seemed to be several voices. Someone in the back started laughing, but that was silenced quickly with what sounded like multiple thwaps, and the laugh died in a yelp.

Silence from the back.

England found this agreeable, finished making the adjustments needed for him to drive comfortably, and rolled his window down. He leaned out the window.

In the two cars behind him, each driver did the same. Austria in the middle vehicle and Sweden all the way in the back.

"Is everyone ready to start this terrible escapade?" The Englishman yelled back, startling several tourists ambling into the hotel that the nations thought they'd be staying at. Somewhere deep down, all of them were hoping that this was a joke and their bosses would reappear and reclaim them. But they all knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Did you set the GPS? You're up front, we'll be following, you know!" Austria shouted, looking out of place in the street clothes he'd flown in with. Looking so informal in front of the others must've been tweaking at his nerves.

"Oh... fuck it all..." All three drivers made to pull themselves back into the car before England glanced at the device on the dash and leaned out again. Both Austria and Sweden froze, waiting to respond to whatever was about to fly out of the easily irritated man's mouth. Subtle shifting of the cars showed that the passengers were already sick of the arrangements. "Where do I set this thing for?"

"Just set it to the summit center and we'll figure out the rest when we get there!"

"Ah, right." England sat properly in the seat again and turned the key in the ignition. The two cars behind them roared to life as well. Then he focused green eyes on the GPS. "Now... how d'ya--"

"I'll set it!" America yanked himself up between France and England and a deep, pained grunt came from the backseat, pulled the GPS off the dash and switched it on. The American took his sweet time fiddling the with the touch screen, following the commands and prompts issued by the synthetic female voice, and eventually had it set and back on the dashboard where England could see it.

Everyone tuned the GPS out as it regurgitated the address.

"_--Estimated travel time one hundred sixty-eight hours…_"

Everyone mentally began writing their wills and dividing their lands amongst their closest allies who were lucky enough not to be present on this trip.


	2. Combat Zone

**A/N: **I have not abandonned this story! Seriously, my summer got real hectic and then school started up again. Updates are going to take a while, but I'm definitely going to see this to the end. Also, I love you all so much for the reviews and things. You have no idea how happy those made me.

Regarding languages, I'm sticking to relatively common terms and phrases for the foreign languges that will appear in any of my stories. Japan will be the only country that will be using Japanese suffixes, of course, but I did have a rather lengthy debate with myself over having Finland use "Su-san". It's canon, but at the same time it doesn't have much of a point anywhere else. So he doesn't use it.

For anyone that reads my "Resilient North" story, I'm revising the second chapter and I should be updating it in the next couple of weeks. Anyhoo, here's something to make things easier for you (I'll update this list as people switch cars):

**Nice Car:** Canada, Finland, Sweden, Lithuania, Poland, Spain, S. Italy

**Quasi-Nice Car: **Turkey, Greece, Japan, China, Korea, Austria, Germany, N. Italy

**Mean Car: **England, France, America, Russia, Belarus, Switzerland, Prussia, Hungary

* * *

Red Light.

"Sweden, I think we're circling the hotel." Sweden didn't respond, watching England's car turn left at the light, followed by Austria's. He stepped lightly on the gas and followed suit.

Finland was right, of course, and all three vehicles had been looping around the hotel for the better part of twenty minutes like a kettle of cumbersome vultures. They weren't sure, either, if England was aware of leading the entire troupe around or if he thought that they were actually making progress. It was hard to tell.

"We should call him." Spain yelled all the way from the back. Sweden kept his stoic gaze on the SUV in front while Finland turned in his seat to look in the back.

"Does anyone have his number?" Poland and Lithuania shrugged. Spain seemed at a loss. South Italy seemed beyond caring. Canada fished around in his sweatshirt for a moment, finally producing his cell phone. He flipped it open and scanned his address book.

"Uh-- Here." He gave the phone to Finland who smiled in thanks.

* * *

While Germany constantly wore a look that spoke of how much he wished that he'd stayed home on any given day, the one that he wore now told that he was ready and waiting for the end of the world to rip him from the face of the Earth so that he would no longer have to admit that he was acquainted with the people he was surrounded by now. To his dismay, the end of the world was a long way off, he was stuck seated on top of three suitcases packed with what he was sure was liquor, and they hadn't even left the vicinity of the hotel.

"Ludwig, look at that lady's dress!" Italy had managed to press himself up close to the window, pinning a rather, for once, uncomfortable looking Korea. Germany's face was stony and it was a wonder that he never developed a canyon between his brows where they were always creased.

"I've seen the dress. We've driven past that woman three times Feliciano." Germany responded, releasing the air he'd been keeping bottled up in his lungs as a precautionary measure.

In the front seat, Austria was already struggling to repress the urge to mow down the flocks of pedestrians on the sidewalks and China had leaned forward to rest his head on the dash.

"Why are we going in circles, aru?"

Austria, all kinds of uncomfortable in his jeans and t-shirt, had hunched himself over the wheel in a sad endeavor to avoid screaming at anyone in close proximity.

"I have no idea. Does anybody remember who's in that car?" He hissed. Japan's voice rang strained from the back seat.

"I'm not sure of anyone other than England-san. Is-- Is that car supposed to be rocking like that?"

All those with a clear view through the windshield looked at the car driving in front. Sure enough, it was teetering precariously on it's shocks and wild movement was visible through the tinted windows.

"Oh, hell." Austria spat, tightening his grip on the wheel. "They're fighting."

* * *

It took three rings before anyone could hear England's cell phone over the cacophony that had erupted in the SUV. It took three _calls_ before anyone felt the need to break from their verbal death match to address it.

"What is that bloody _noise_!?"

"I am not sure, _Angleterre_. Could it be that digital menace on the dash leading us in circles, the unintelligible bickering in the back--" As if to emphasize what France was saying, a distinctive female voice rose above the other cries for personal space to declare with undeniable vehemence that if it's owner was touched again then the offender would be taking an unpleasant trip back into the Age of Imperialism. "-- or could it be your ugly little phone?"

England responded to France's jab with a noise that could only be described as a growl before he took the same left that he'd managed to memorize in the twenty minutes they'd been circling the hotel again much too sharply-- consequently throwing the prim blond against his door. Panicked shrieks burst forth from the back. Namely because it had resulted in Switzerland being flattened in a rather compromising way by his fellow trunk-dwellers. Belarus herself had taken the sealing of the confined space as a sign that there was no chance that her brother could escape her and had seized the opportunity with gusto-- much to the dismay of the two world powers seated at her right. The turn wasn't helping them fight her off.

"Answer your phone England!" America. His voice was choked and ready to snap.

"I'M DRIVING! DO YOU WANT TO DIE!?" That was signal enough for a complete collapse in the back of the car.

"At this point-- _YES!_"

"Don't you dare let her touch me Am-- Aah! _Ostebis' wed'ma!_"

"_Back off_ you doll-eyed groper!"

"Stop the fucking car-- I want out!" Which was accompanied by violent pummeling at one of the windows in the trunk.

"IF YOU DON'T GET OFF OF ME!--"

"She's gonna rip my dick off—!!" Shrill. But it might've been Prussia.

"Brother!"

"You're not helping– _Russia_!"

"SHUTUPSHUTUP! I CAN'T CONCENTRATE!"

France, recovering from the blotched vision that had resulted from his head-to-window contact, reached over and yanked England's phone out of his coat pocket when it began to ring for the eighth time. Just as the Englishman, in a blaze of obscenities and faulty curses, turned the wheel and floored the gas-- sending the SUV careening into the parking lot of a nearby gas station.

* * *

"_Bonjour_~"

"Oh, hello France. Why're you answering England's phone?"

"_Should I ask why you are using Canada's_?" Finland laughed, albeit anxiously. Even if they were the third car in the line-up, they'd seen the first car weaving through the lanes.

"Um, I was calling to say--"

"_We are going in circles? Yes, we are very aware of that-- small mishap with this demonic thing..._" The airy tone on the other end of the line paused long enough to give the Finnish man a brief snippet of a rather _heated_, multi-national argument going on somewhere in France's car.

"Um, I don't see your guys' car..."

"_We have pulled into a gas station to.... collect ourselves. Go around one more time and meet us. Austria is already pulling in._"

* * *

All six occupants of the front seats stood in a circle outside of the gas station while the passengers of their cars waged war with the child locks.

"How do we get out of the city?"

"We could ask America. This _is_ his house, aru." All six pairs of eyes looked back at the car that had been jerking on it's axles. The vehicle was still now, but muffled screaming could be heard all the way from where they were standing next to the little convenient store adjacent the gas pumps.

"America's a little predisposed at the moment." The thick-browed Englishman was massaging his temples. His face was finally returning to it's natural color.

"We are _not_ using GPS this entire trip. If that's the case I will sit outside of that hotel until my boss comes to get me." Austria had removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"Let's give it one more shot." Finland smiled hopefully. "If this happens again then we can just wing it."

No one looked as hopeful. Austria turned on his heel and marched to where the cars were parked. He whipped the driver's seat of the first car open and, ignoring the desperate pleas to be released from the backseat, ripped the GPS off of the dash. The five nations left standing next to the store were a bit slow on the uptake, only just starting to run at the Austrian when he hucked the small device across the street and into the side of an aged looking brick building.

With horror, twenty-two pairs of eyes all from different vantage points in cars or next to the gas pumps watched as a small flock of elderly women stepped over the remains of the only GPS device that they'd been given. Roderich however, seemed rather accomplished as he whirled around (slamming the car door shut again before Prussia could claw his way out) and bore down on the other five.

"Go into the store and buy a map, we're doing this the old fashioned way!"

China and Finland gaped a little longer before deciding they should probably do as they were told, lest the Germanic nation fly into a homicidal rage. Those that remained just continued to stare at Austria.

"It's like Jekyll and Hyde." England whispered to France, as Austria went to go and situate himself back in the car that he'd vacated ten minutes ago. France nodded, rubbing the bruise on his jaw reflexively.

"It must be the jeans, _mon ami._"

* * *

A half hour later, they were finally on the road.

* * *

_Ostebis' wed'ma- _Fuck off, witch.


End file.
